One for the Money
by littlemisslol
Summary: In which Jack Frost is the king of the deadly Black Widow con, and has just recently come across his newest mark, a tall, handsome Australian. But this mark has his own agenda, one that Jack couldn't have seen coming in a thousand years. (JackRabbit Con-Man Au, with a side of murder and thievery) Human!AU
1. In Which Murder Happens

**PROLOGUE: IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME.**

There was a dead man on the floor. There was a dead man on the floor who was at least fifty years old, maybe older you never know, and his blood was draining out of the bullet hole in his head and onto the Malaysian redwood flooring. Jack looked down at the body on the floor of his living room sadly, biting at his nails on one hand. The quartz chandelier above him glittered impassively and the gun in his hand held a warped reflection of it in it's dark metal.

There was a dead man on the floor, and Jack had put him there.

"So. Listen." Jack says softly, his voice echoing off the marble floors and high ceilings of the mansion he'd called home for the past three years. "Not that this hasn't been fun but... I'm breaking up with you."

His blue eyes spark at the joke, even as he quickly bends over and removes the two year old wedding band from the man's hand. A small smile works it's way over his face as he stands, before he quickly walks away from the crime. His shoes make a sharp _tap_ing that echo through the empty mansion, following him up the spiral staircase in the front hall, down the lavish hallways, and into the bedroom he had shared with his victim and husband.

He bends and reaches under the bed, a large four poster from some European country or another, before pulling out a duffle bag. Jack quickly works his way back downstairs, back to the body of his husband.

"Still where I left you, good." He laughs, digging into the duffle and pulling out a pair of large doctor's tweezers. Clicking them ominously, he descends, quickly lifting the head of his victim, already starting to grey without it's blood pumping. With precision one can only have with practice, Jack works the tweezers into the wound, deeper into the head. He twists them around a bit, making a grossed out face at the _squelching_ sound of brain and blood and little fragments of skull, but eventually cackles in glee when he pulls out his prize.

The warped remains of a bullet, his bullet, stained red with little chunks of skull and offal still attached sits pretty in the tweezers. Jack can't be happier as he inspects it, overjoyed that it's still in one piece and he won't have to go digging around and look for any offending little pieces that may still be stuck in there.

"So, uh. It's not you," He says softly, standing once again and hoisting the duffle over a thin shoulder. "It's me."

Laughing at his own joke, Jack makes his way past the body and into the most expensive room of the house, the kitchen. Marble from Venice, wall sconces from France, the latest appliances from Tokyo, it was all quite nice, but Jack didn't have time to marvel. He was a man on a mission, after all.

Humming to himself, he makes his way to one of the _hand painted by the great artist blah who lived in blah, blah, blah _art pieces, and promptly rips it from the wall, letting it clatter to the ground without a second thought. His eyes were only focused on the safe beyond.

The safe itself was imbedded in the wall and had taken Jack somewhere around six months to find. It was Swiss, of course it was, one of the best in the world.

It takes Jack around three minutes to crack it.

Rubbing his hands together, Jack giggles in the excited way of a child opening their Christmas presents. He swings the iron door open, barely able to contain himself, only to have the smile drop from his face in a heartbeat.

"_Empty_?!" He shrieks, punching the wall next to it. "What the _fuck_ you old creep, where the hell is it?!"

Three fucking years he'd spent on this scam, three _fucking_ years. Seducing the bastard and even going so far as to fucking _marry_ the guy, being carted around as a fucking _trophy wife _and all he got for it was an empty goddamn safe? What the _fuck_ indeed!

Growling in rage, he hoists his duffle higher on his shoulder. He quickly gets some paper towels from the overly expensive dispenser and wipes the safe down. Jack then takes a walk through the house, ripping every single picture of himself and the mark (or just himself, in some cases) from the walls, stopping to give the creep a good kick in the side for good measure, and then storming over to the marble fireplace, before nonchalantly throwing three years worth of memories and a used bullet into the fire.

The light from the fire warms his skin, but irritates the brown contacts in his eyes. It was time for a new look, he thinks, then a new mark, one who would actually _pay up_ this time, and repeat.

The Black Widow Scam was tired and old, Jack knew, but _goddamn_ if he wasn't good at it. This was somewhere around his fourth husband (he stopped counting after a while) in six years, and each and every one of them had left him _loaded_, except for this latest fucker.

He runs through a mental checklist, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Pictures burned, bullet retrieved, fingerprints gone, check, check, check.

It was time to disappear, he thinks sadly.

It was time to move on.

(THIS IS A LINE, ISN'T IT BEAUTIFUL?)

The hotel Jack sets himself up in is nice enough, not gross or inhospitable, but not exactly five stars. However, Jack was never a stickler for details, as long as it had a clean bed and running water. He may be a world renowned thief, and therefore used to the finer things in life, but goddamn if he can't just man up and deal with it.

Jack stands in the not-quite-crappy-but-almost bathroom of the hotel, staring at the reflection in the mirror. Brown hair, brown eyes, a simple combination, but apparently that's what his mark had likes. Or, well, liked.

Heh.

His reflection smiles a bit, a small quirk of pale, thin lips. Jack tears his eyes away slightly, looking down at the choice he was currently trying to make.

"Hrm, blonde hair with blue eyes, black hair and green eyes, or brown eyes with... oh I could do red hair. Be ginge, that could be fun."

Decisions, decisions. With a sigh Jack mulls over what his next disguise was going to be. According to the news, the police were looking for a man, about 20 years of age, with brown hair and brown eyes in the murder of an esteemed gentleman who had been murdered and robbed blind. Long story short, Jack had to change up his look if he wanted to avoid getting locked up for life.

With a sigh, Jack looked through his duffel, which had been hiding under the sink, and with no small amount of shock lifted another bottle of hair dye out of the dark recesses of the bag. He looked over the label, stopping with a smug little smirk.

"Oh, I haven't done _this_ before~."

**A/N** OH SHIT NEW STORY. Howdy y'all. Have I ever told you I ship Jackrabbit like a motherfucker? No? OKAY WELL YEAH. So basically this is a con-man AU, and shit will go down, but that's all imma say until we get rolling along :D Thanks for reading loves!


	2. Wining, Dining, and a Silver Lining

**CHAPTER ONE: WINING, DINING, AND A SILVER LINING**

The Catalina Wine Mixer was fucking _boring_. Hour three of this snooze fest and so far _nothing_ good had happened. Jack Frost sighed to himself, adjusting his shockingly white hair slightly. He's _this_ close to just giving up and going home, he really is, because he'd spent four goddamn hours primping and preening and making sure his tastefully tailored suit was _just so_, and no one was even _drunk _yet.

It was enough to make a boy sick, and Jack had half a mind to just get wasted, puke in the begonias, and be done with it.

But maybe not.

It'd been three months since the last scam he'd pulled and it's grisly end, and Jack was antsy to start up another. It's time to get back in the game, he told himself that morning, time to get back up and start conning rubes because _goddamn_ he's almost broke (by his standards, meaning he was down to the last hundred thousand).

The Wine Mixer, as boring as it happened to be, was nice enough, Jack supposed, sitting pretty atop a seaside cliff with multiple gazebo type buildings for shelter from the sun and to protect food. Some froofy band was playing in the background, and the mulling of conversation was everywhere. It was the type of place a person like Jack _thrived_.

That is, if he had a mark. A target would usually be a good place to start, but as of now Jack had yet to see anyone that met his standards of:

1: Stupid as all hell

2: Single

And 3, the most important of all: At least somewhat attractive.

Call him picky, call him shallow, but if Jack was potentially marrying them, then _fuck_ they had to at least be easy on the eyes.

But so far no luck. No one had met all three requirements as of yet, and Jack would have been long gone save for one detail.

Tooth.

A fellow con artist, Toothiana played a different game than Jack, that being that she spent most of her time working from behind a screen and directing her massive ring of spies, aka her "Baby Teeth" as Jack had taken to calling them. While Jack went for comparatively smaller cons with smaller takes, Tooth was raking in millions upon millions of dollars with just one con. However, her way of doing things were much more high risk for everyone involved, and thus on occasion called in for reinforcements.

Aka Jack.

"So _why_ exactly am I here?" Jack asks expectantly, seeming to talk to no one on particular. If anyone saw they'd think him crazy, but Jack, when he wanted to, was very good at blending in.

"Because I need someone to keep an eye on the party while a Baby Tooth goes in." Tooth responds through the tiny speaker that was tucked away in Jack's ear. "Just for a bit longer Jack, she's almost got the casing on the diamond open."

Currently, Tooth was in the middle of stealing a rather large diamond that was sitting, unguarded, in the massive mansion that worked as the home of the esteemed Manfred Lunanoff. Manfred himself, the one holding the fundraiser, hadn't left Jack's sight since he'd gotten to the party. Jack knows that currently one of Tooth's little spies is breaking into the bulletproof casing surrounding the diamond, and he also knows that within the six minutes it takes for them to notice the diamond's gone, Jack has to get the hell out.

No need to get anywhere close to the cops, even if his last scam/murder had gone off without a hitch.

"You said just a bit longer ten minutes ago." Jack grumbles into his champagne, held with practiced grace between long, almost feminine fingers.

"Oh hush." Tooth chides. "I'm sure it's not _that _bad."

"You're the one sitting in your nice cozy van with your computers and... I'm gunna bet two bucks you've got one of your goddamn sugarless energy drinks in there too."

Jack gives a satisfied smirk when he hears the thunk of an empty can being tossed into a garbage on the other end of the line. _Called it_.

"You shut up!" Tooth hisses as Jack snorts unattractively into his drink. "You can stop complaining now, Baby's got the thing finally. You're free to go. Dick."

Jack mentally cheers, ready to ditch this popsicle stand ASAP, when he hears a gruff voice from behind and gets a light tap on the shoulder.

"You sure you're old enough for that drink?" Says the voice in, what Jack admits, is a _delicious_ Australian accent. Jack turns around in surprise, and-

Oh _shit_ he's hot.

Rugged look, naturally tanned skin broken up by _gorgeous _tattoos, black hair only just starting to grey. And those _eyes_ sweet fuck. Green as an emerald Jack'd stolen when he was young. Jack's aware that he's staring, and he doesn't even fucking care because if there was one single person that could pull of a suit it was _this guy_ because damn if you couldn't see the well muscled arms, legs, and chest under that well crafted suit.

Criteria three, check.

Jack allows his eyes to wander just a bit more, his mind quickly taking over his hormones. 6'1, or thereabouts, one of the more recent Rolex models on his wrist, size 8 shoes, recently shined. Just the hint of a silv-_platinum_ chain around his neck. Could hold his wedding ring, single then? He _was_ flirting, and with Jack no less.

Criteria one and two, check and check.

Mark, met.

Jack schools his face into the flirty grin that's been practiced in the mirror a million times. "I'm old enough," He says lightly, taking a sip of champagne as if to prove it. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

The man smiles and _oh sweet Jesus that's so goddamn attractive Jesus fuck_, before laughing slightly. He moves closer to Jack, who can practically _feel_ the heat coming from him. It's like the guy is a walking furnace or something.

"M'name's Ethan-Abbot Bachman." He says casually, and Jack can see the _almost_ nonchalant way he tosses an arm around Jack's shoulders. "But everyone calls me Aster. Dunno why." Jack feels himself getting reeled closer to this... _Aster_ via the arm around his shoulders, and allows it. It's so _easy_ when they're the ones to approach him.

"I'm Jack," He says, playing up the shyness in his voice because this guy seems the type to like the shy little virgin types. Jack's played that before, fucking hates it, but if it'll move things along quick then _why not_? "Jack Overland."

Aster smiles at that, casually taking a swing at his own drink. Oh yeah, this guy's a tough guy. "Well then Jack Overland, you look as bored as I feel. How'da say we go and get some food that hasn't cost a small fortune?"

A man after Jack's own heart. The smile that split's Jack's face is a genuine one, and he hastily agrees. Jack can hear a commotion coming from the main building a fourth a kilometer away, so yeah, leaving's a good idea. Aster tightens the arm around his shoulders as they walk away from the party, making small talk as they get to Aster's car (Jack had forced Tooth to drive him, so it's a good thing too) and they drive around until they find a McDonalds or something. They then sit in the car, still talking in between stuffing their faces with things that are _so fucking bad for them but they don't care._

Aster's from Australia. He's 29, almost 30, and is the youngest son of a wealthy businessman from down under. He's in America for a trip, but may plan on staying if he finds anything worth staying for.

Jack makes up most of his background on the spot, but that's something that's come second nature nowadays so it doesn't bother him.

He tells Aster he's 23, he was the son of a major business _woman_, but that both of his parents are dead and that an older sibling had taken over the company, but now he's been pretty much left with his half of the family profits, which are only ever going up.

It's all bullshit, but it's _believable bullshit_.

And in the long run that's all that matters. Jack can build on it later.

Eventually they finish clogging their arteries, and Aster drives him home. Or, to be more specific, Aster drives him to the house he'd bought like a week ago with most of his earnings from the last con. The Australian _does_ give him his number, however, and Jack gives his in return.

Somewhere along the line they make plans for next Saturday.

Jack waves as Aster drives away, and manages to wait until he closes the door behind him before bursting out laughing. Back pushed against the rosewood door, Jack just lets loose, letting his laughter echo through the house.

"Too fucking _easy_!" He giggles to himself.

(THIS IS A LINE, ISN'T IT BEAUTIFUL?)

Aster drops the mark off at his house, an overly stylized sorta place, before trading numbers with the doe eyed bugger and driving off after making plans to get together next Saturday. The kid was cute, he had to admit. White hair, blue eyes, skinny as a rail, definitely E. Aster Bunnymund's type. If the kid was a little less naive and bubbly, he might even go for him legitimately.

But that wasn't how the scam works, now was it?

Aster chuckles to himself, pulling up to his own homestead. He'd needed a new rube, he did. He was down to his last million, so it was about time to start hunting for a new guy to con.

Seduce, marry, rob, kill, repeat. A good system, if not tired and true. Aster'd pulled it somewhere around six times in the last ten years, what was one more?

Bunnymund can't help but laugh to himself as he enters his house. "Too fuckin' easy." He laughs, tossing his keys into a waiting dish and heading farther into the house.

**A/N** DUN. DUN. DUUUUUUUN. OH THE IRONY (_I am so fucking witty you guys for realz_) So if you haven't guessed, this is basically going to be Mr and Mrs Smith with con men and shenanigans. Oh what _fun_ we're going to have!

Thank you for all the likes, faves, and reviews guys! It means so much to me :D

In response to the reviews (all two of the, precious babies)

**TheAbsolute1**: Thanks hun, I hope to update about once every two weeks until school is over, and then more frequently once school's over!

**Random**: Your wish is my command, love :D


	3. Hobbies, Bodies, and Tackyass Audis

**CHAPTER TWO: HOBBIES, BODIES, AND TACKYASS AUDIS**

Jack eventually decides to head to Tooth's place, out of sheer boredom. It's been three days since he's seen Aster, three days since his game began. The day is Saturday, and Jack _should _be getting ready for his date but... nah. Later. Sometime that is not now.

Tooth's house is a small but nice apartment, high up in the skyline of the vast city of Chicago. It's a longer drive from Jack's neck of the woods, but it's worth it. There aren't many people who Jack trusts, and even fewer that he actually liked. A little distance wasn't going to keep him from the closest thing he had to family.

Tooth mocks him for restarting the con, but she always has.

"Well at least this one's cute." She says mockingly as she pours coffee for them both. "Oh yeah, I saw him." She cuts Jack's immediate question off. Her dress is a whirlwind of colours, greens and blues and yellows and purples all thrown together in a mishmash that somehow turned out looking good. She flops down onto the couch next to Jack, casually tossing her bare feet onto his lap. He simply smirks, used to the friendly gesture.

"It's too easy Tooth," Jack says happily. "I'll have this guy six feet under in a year tops." He leans closer to her unimpressed face before smiling the grin he knows she can't resist. "Besides, he's got such nice _abs_, it's crazy."

She laughs and pushes his face away, rolling her eyes. Her face drops, however, and she looks at him seriously. Jack perks at this, usually Tooth was peppy as anyone could be. To see her face as serious as it was something had to be up.

"What?" He asks, confused. She sighs, looking down to her hands.

"I don't like how you just rush into things like this." She says solemnly. "You should do some research before you go barrelling into a con, hun. One day you're going to get into trouble, I can feel it. And then where will you be? Dead in a ditch, or _worse_ Jack! You need to be more careful."

Jack sighs in frustration, this was at least the sixth time they've had this conversation in the past two months. It always ended the same, with neither party happy and one crawling back and apologizing.

"When have I not been fine, Tooth?" He asks softly, looking her dead in her violet eyes. "I've _always_ been fine. It's a law of nature, the sun rises, grass grows, animals fuck, and I make it out of cons alive. It's the way the world works."

She doesn't even crack a smile.

"If I let you look into this guy, will you get offa my back?" Jack finally relents. Tooth's face cracks into a grin, and she nods enthusiastically. Jack and Tooth had long since promised to keep their noses out of each other's businesses, unless asked or they had a legitimate fear for the other's safety. This rule had been started directly after what was known as the "2008 Milan tour fiasco."

Long story short, shit had gone down and they had both almost gotten arrested due to poor communication. Both their attempted cons had gone ass up, and they'd lost a collective $30 million.

A shitty day for both parties.

They never spoke of it again.

Tooth turns the conversation to happier topics, including her new diamond.

"I'm thinking of keeping it," She says, pulling it from a pocket in her dress. It's a large thing, cut to perfection and roughly the size of an orange. Long story short, it was big, it was shiny, and most importantly, it was expensive.

"Well," He shrugs, "You could save it for a rainy day. Or an escape route if one of your babies fuck up."

Tooth slaps him upside the head. _Ow_.

"My babies are the best there are." She says, turning a nose to the air. "Any implications otherwise will get your girl time revoked."

Jack snorts. He's allowed to be unattractive with Tooth. "Oh, whatever shall I do?" He moans dramatically, flopping over the back of the couch and hanging upside down. While listening to Tooth nearly choke on her drink, he checks his watch. Aster's going to be at his house in an hour. He should... probably get on that.

Yeah, there's a plan.

So it is with much regret that he sits back up and tells Tooth that the time for leaving was at hand. She looks a little disappointed, but nods all the same. Jack is courteous enough to help her clean up the assorted dishes and garbage that always seems to accumulate whenever they have their so called "girl talks" before leaving.

Once home, Jack can't help but feel a little... bored, at the prospect of starting over again. In all honesty he only truly loves a con the moment he pulls it off. The moment the rube is dead on the ground or six feet under, and Jack's sitting pretty on a plane to the next city.

The feeling of success was a drug and he knew it, but it's not like he was ever going to stop.

His last con had been in San Francisco. He's now in Chicago. Jack, in his twenty one years of life, has hopped to more cities than he cared to count. New York, London, and on one particularly memorable occasion he'd found himself running around Bangkok drunk off his ass and missing his jacket.

But we never talk about that.

_Ever_.

But as Jack looks around him, staring at the marble and the art and the utter glory of his home, he can't help but think. Why would he ever give something like this up? For a normal life no less?

_One day you're going to get into trouble, I can feel it_.

Feh, what did Tooth know? She sat behind a computer all day and let others do the hard work. Jack loves her dearly, she's the closest he's got to family, but she doesn't know _shit_ about grifting.

Jack'll be fine, he can feel it. Tooth was just a worrywart.

Right?

(THIS IS A LINE, ISN'T IT BEAUTIFUL?)

Aster sighs in irritation, shoveling another load of dirt out of the hole he was currently digging. He'd been digging for an hour, slowly but surely carving a two foot lengthwise, two foot wide, and ten feet deep hole into the forest floor.

The things he did for friends.

"Ah, Bunnymund, is almost done yes?" Aster rolls his eyes at the Russian accent before casting them skywards, only just seeing the extended belly of the asshole he called friend.

"Yeah, North. S'almost done, though why _I'm_ the one digging I'll never know."

"Is because I would not fit in hole. Much too large." The Russian, North, reaches a massive hand into the hole and grabs onto the back of Aster's shirt. The Australian yelps at the contact but allows himself to be hefted out of the hole nonetheless.

North's a big man, round in both gut and face. A great white beard covers his face and neck, reaching almost to his belly button. The Russian wears a red fur coat, despite it being the middle of summer, with black pants and great big black boots (which look very good for squishing heads, but Aster's about 70% sure North hasn't gone there. Yet).

"So, what exactly did this bloke do?" Aster almost regrets asking, but does it nonetheless. Turning slightly, he can just see the shoeless feet of a dead body wrapped in an ugly floral print bed sheet with a large stain of red right where the head should be. North only laughs at the question, turning to look at the mass as well.

"He tried to steal from me, old friend." North laughs. "I was unappreciative of this. So I am shooting him. Is no big deal."

Aster only nods, running a hand through his hair to dispel the sweat that was no doubt in it. Aster's not an unfit guy, far from it, but digging holes is a long, tedious process.

North goes to pick up the body, and Aster grabs the guy's head while North gets his feet. They're a full hour from the nearest walking trail, let alone the city itself. They're fine to be doing this during the day, or at least they should be.

A gangster of North's calibre should damn well know these things, so Aster's content to put his trust in the Russian.

Together they toss the slightly smelling body into the hole, head first. It makes a gross _crunching_ as it hits the bottom, probably the spine breaking or something, and Aster can't help but make a grossed-out expression at the sound of it. North laughs at him, and calls him a pansy.

Dick.

Aster sits back and lets North take over, rubbing at his forehead with his discarded jacket that _had_ been nice when this had all started when North had called him three hours ago in need of a _little favour_.

North chats amicably as he shovels dirt on top of the body, burying it slowly but surely. The body only takes up around six feet of the hole, but apparently North has a trick that requires four extra feet.

Once the body is buried, plus one more foot of dirt, North quickly walks back to a nearby truck. Aster watches in passive interest, content to just sit on the ground and let North go about his business. The Russian sorts through the truck bed, grumbling to himself before pulling out a potato sack, though Aster has the odd suspicion that potatoes aren't what's in there.

North walks back to the hole, before turning the bag upside down and allowing the contents to fall out and into the hole with a muffled_ thump_. Aster stands and walks across the small clearing, before peering into the hole.

And almost barfing.

A half decomposed dog lies there, still in one piece but barely. North pats his back rather harshly, and begins to explain.

"Police are always looking for leftovers of holes that are six feet by one, for impromptu graves, da? So we stand body right side up to avoided such obvious markers. We then put dead animal on top of body to confuse sniffer dogs. If dogs are finding, police dig up dead animal and are registering it as false positive and moving on zer way. Is something I have learned from long ago, in Russia."

After getting over the initial gross out factor, Aster can appreciate the little nuances and genius behind the plan. Didn't make it any less fucking gross though. Smart, but nasty. So, nodding along, Aster signs his approval via thumbs up, before trying to get the dead dog underground ASAP, because _fuck_ that thing smells something awful.

He spares a second to check his watch, before letting out a curse.

"Aw, crikey, I'm gunna be late!" He exclaims, tossing his jacket on and starting towards his own car.

"Ah, for date with new rube, da?" North asks, leaning on a shovel lightly. "One with white hair?"

"That's the one. You're gunna have ta finish up without me, sorry mate."

"Is no problem, have fun with new squeeze, you shlyukha!"

Aster's pretty sure the Russian is insulting him, but he can't stop now if he wants to get back to the city, get cleaned up, and still go and pick up the doe eyed bastard he's planning on conning.

So it's off to the city he goes. Aster jumps into his car and slams the door shut a little too fast in his haste, but doesn't have the time to care. North'd be able to clear everything up on his own, hopefully.

Sometimes Aster looks at his life, considers the fact that his only real friend is a murdering gangster, but then he considers the fact that he doesn't give a flying fuck, and then he moves on with his life. North's a good friend, Aster knows. A good friend, who will lie, murder, steal, and cheat for you, though god help you if you got on his bad side. The man was cuddly as a plush bear if he liked you, but he also had a violent streak a mile long in both directions.

Aster can't help but smile to himself as he drives himself down the narrow dirt path that was supposed to be fore ATV's, looking at the rather harsh change in directives.

Hiding a body and going on a date, all within the same two hours that was a mood whiplash if there ever was one. But still, it was time for work. Time to go charm the pants (maybe literally, maybe metaphorically, depending on what goes down) off this kid.

Maybe he could get North to help him bury he white haired twerp once Aster's done with him? He could probably guilt North into helping...

Yeah, there's a plan. With a grin, he continues on driving, game face on and charm pumped to an eleven. This was going to be _fun_.

(THIS IS A LINE, ISN'T IT BEAUTIFUL?)

Jack's just barely finished dressing when the doorbell rings, echoing through the empty but spacious front hall of his home. He inspects his face in mirror for another second, making sure everything was in order and ready to go, before shooting himself his own trademark grin.

"Showtime." He whispers, turning away to head downstairs.

At that exact moment, Aster stands in front of the white door, tapping his foot impatiently. The white haired bugger had better not be late, because if Aster can get from 'hiding a body' to 'date ready' in under half an hour then there shouldn't be a problem on the kid's end.

He takes the delay to check his teeth in the reflection on his phone's screen, making sure he hadn't forgotten any dirt or the like in his haste. Everything looks pretty good, at least as far as he thinks.

Jack's sudden appearance at the door causes him to shove the phone back into his pocket, and he attempts to play it off (and untimely fails but shhh) by running a hand through his hair and making small talk. Jack just locks him with an amused smirk before laughing and pushing past him and heading towards Aster's green Audi.

They make mindless chatter as Aster drives, laughing and chattering away as the city begins to thin out into a smaller suburban area. Jack looks out the window with a barely contained interest, nearly bouncing up and down in his seat. The moment Aster stops the car Jack's bolting out the door and running into the park beyond.

Aster only laughs and follows behind, watching the little bugger run about the grassy field like an idiot. Jack has a smile a mile wide, and goddamn if that's not a good look for him, but _business_, Aster, business.

Eventually Jack settles the hell down, and they walk through the park along a path through the assorted trees and flowers. They joke and laugh and all that jazz, and _fuck_ it's boring as all hell, but Aster tosses a winning grin on and bears it nonetheless. At some point they find a patch of grass and sit, watching the clouds float along the blue sky in a comfortable silence.

Jack's bored to tears, not that his face shows it. He leaves a contented smile on his face as his mind wanders. He had to pick up milk sometime within the next week, and he's pretty sure he's running out of toothpaste... oh shit wait Aster's talking _focus Jack_.

"-and I really think we should get together sometime again." Aster says in a matter of fact manner, not breaking eye contact with the sky. Jack simply nods and smiles, flashing snow white teeth towards Aster.

Aster smirks back at him, content to call this first date a success. Stage one of the con: passed with flying colours.

They exchange a few more words, unknowing of the actual feelings behind them.

"I love spending time with ya, Jackie." _And it'll almost be a shame to cut that off, but then again I really don't care that much_.

"Same here Aster, you're so much fun to be around." _You insufferable jackass._

"Heh, good to know." _Not much of a complement from a kid who'd probably go out with a lamp if it had abs and a good smile_.

"But yes, we should definitely do this again." _Despite you having more abs than brain cells_.

"Hell yes we should." _Fuck, do we have to? _

They lapse back into silence, watching the sun go from bright blue to orange as the sun sets. At some point Aster gathers Jack's hand into his own, nearly dwarfing it.

Neither of them know it, but this was the most peaceful moment they were going to have in a _long_ time

**A/N** And there's chapter two! We get to see some Tooth and a bit of North, but don't worry when I say this isn't even close to the last we'll see of them! We also get some first date shenanigans, and all is well. Expect a rather large time skip between the next chapter and this one, just for the sake of plots and the like we're going to motor ahead a bit. Thank you to all my reviewers, favorites, and follows! You all make me so happy darlings :D

Oh, and for those wondering, shlyukha is an anglicized version of the Russian word for "whore" (North you asshole)

In response to some reviews:

**Yat:** I'm not sure about the rating yet, I've never written smut (and romance is even pretty new for me, I'm more of a horror buff myself, but whatever), but it might depending on how adventurous I feel :D

**Guest422:** Haha, then you're going to love the shit out of chapter three (spoilers shhhhhh)

**K:** Same here man, I've got that whole scene played out in my head, it's just a matter of getting the story to that point O3O

**Guest:** Thanks hun, I'm glad you like it! When I thought of the twist I laughed so hard you don't even know man XD

**Ichiro-Temajii:** I'm not sure how many con men fics there are running around, but thank you nonetheless dahling! Your wish is granted :D

**Whydoyoucare**: Thanks for both your reviews! And I know my updates went and died, but it's because since school in my province is still wrapping up I've got a whole bunch of major projects to wrap up, and exams, and a whole bunch of other bullshit, so writing kinda got shoved to the back XD I'm glad you're enjoying it though!


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